Five Four Three
by cake-error
Summary: Just a ticking bomb five four three - they cut the wire themselves and sat there with bloody hands waiting for something to happen. Of course, nothing did. Just five four three words they had to say.


The Cold War, in relation to humans, was neither truly cold nor a true war.

Of course, _they_ supposed it was more of two hearts slowly hardening over once more.

It had been four words, finally spat after volleys of what should have been hurtful vitriol, that had broken Russia.

"Don't bother trying again."

After trying so hard, all the promises of never leaving - he didn't bother trying to protest this. _He_ had left. He had stayed in the room afterwards, long enough, giving him too long to just _leave_.

For America, perhaps it was the beginning, perhaps it was the middle, maybe it hadn't been any of them at all but the simple sight of him turning away and meaning it. It was a simple twist of the shoulders, neck, just to look away and eyes to never flicker back. And he _knew_ that he _knew_ and that he didn't want to bother. Just like he had said.

And then they had fallen back together, under whispers of never letting go again, never having been over - they both knew they didn't believe themselves.

Just a ticking bomb _five four three_ - they cut the wire themselves and sat there with bloody hands waiting for something to happen.

Of course, nothing did.

**xOxOxOx**

"Just be my lover, don't be my friend." All they really needed from each other was just that - the thin sheets and near darkness, the quiet murmurs and keens. "Don't come any closer -" that was all they seemed to say. Not again - they couldn't afford that.

Something told them both to - to _do_ something, just something.

America said as much. France only laughed softly and smiled knowingly. "_Petit enfant_, you are in love."

And he sighed. Not again, not like the - the first time -

**xOxOxOx**

Young hearts break once. He pushed the dull old organ back into his own chest and shook his head sadly. He wouldn't want it anyway. There was so many better, bright new people to fill the spaces in with light just like the kind that swirled in through old glass panes and made the dust motes glow like his beautiful golden soul, the one that might have loved _him _and only _him_ just once -

Not _again_.

**xOxOxOx**

Old hearts remember. He tucked away the little slip of paper and sighed again. He wouldn't want to bother. Again, the old words - "you and me forever, I'll never let you fall -" Had he really been that cheerful? That - that lighthearted? Lighthearted. How apt. Chasing the sun, singing in the stars and smiling, holding a cold hand as they strolled down the wet sidewalk under an umbrella in the rain -

Not _again_.

**xOxOxOx**

Under the spell of midnight, combing fingers through silver hair and pressing the others to a slowly rising and falling chest to feel the slow beat of a sleepy heart, he whispered the first three words.

"I'm afraid," so quietly, almost too quiet, like a sigh or a breath - "I'm so afraid -"

There was no response from the older man, who was undoubtedly asleep.

He wonders vaguely if he'd stay - if he wouldn't just dash out the door as if chased by demons - if maybe they could pretend for one day that nothing had happened and they - they _loved_ - each other - just like before -

Senseless musings. He wrapped himself around his taller frame and shut his eyes tightly, pretending the arm draped sloppily over his shoulder was pulling him closer -

"I'm afraid."

**xOxOxOx**

Just in the sparkling, gritty sunlight of his cities, he caught his breath and saw him stand there alone, watching twisting, burning metal meld together to - to _make_ him, and it was beautiful in a way; just to see the framework of the lithe body that he - he used to love -

And maybe he wished he could touch him, wished that he could make him. If he could just stay there and never leave, just like they had said, just hold him like he used to -

_Not used, not used_, he hissed at himself. Never.

Three more words were caught in his throat -

"I want this -"

But it wasn't his to have. Not until he said - until he said -

**xOxOxOx**

It wasn't over yet, it couldn't be, he wouldn't be able to bear it if it was all gone _again_.

"Don't tell me it's over."

A tight little smile graced his features. "Solnyshko -" He stumbled over the word.

_You haven't called me that since -_

"Tell me you remembered - you remembered -"

Those five words - five five five five _five_ had to be his new favorite number he could almost scream -

"I never let you go."

Just like those same _four_ - It's _never over_.

And big baby blues came to stare into his own violet and suddenly he was tongue-tied - he could say it - he _had_ to say it - it was now or never -

Last _three_ words, they were -

"I love you."

**(~fin.)**

* * *

><p>Eh, I wrote that last night and I don't know if I liked how it came out... R &amp; R, please and thank you?<p> 


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